


Come Back To Me

by jkkitty



Series: Love Your Brother [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Angry Sherlock Holmes, BAMF Greg, BAMF Molly, BAMF Mrs. Hudson, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Protective Greg, Protective Mycroft, Sad Mycroft Holmes, Sad Sherlock Holmes, Sibling Incest, holmescrest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22272184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: Months of happiness are destroyed when a careless comment is made during a fight.  Meanwhile, John's true feelings about the brothers’ relationship come out in violence.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Series: Love Your Brother [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/768837
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60





	1. Mistakes We Make

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, it's been I've been gone so long. Teaching and life have kept me busy. However, here is the next chapter in the brother's life. Nothing ever comes easy to them, but most of the people in their life try to keep them going. Hope you enjoy.

The parking lot where the standoff was taking place was quiet. Mycroft, with Anthea slightly in front of him, stood facing the traitor who was across from them. No one noticed Sherlock sneaking up and hiding behind the car. He knew something was wrong this morning after Mycroft had received a phone call, so he followed his brother when he had left the house.

“Mr. Belzer, I would suggest you surrender before the rest of our men arrive. It would be better than to chance an accidental bullet finding you from someone who lost their friend because of your betrayal.” Mycroft spoke softly, leaning on his umbrella, appearing unfazed by the gun pointed at him.

Christopher Belzer had been a communication officer who passed along the assignments for MI5 agents infiltrating foreign countries. An offer of money and relocation had him betraying five agents who met their death before Sherlock had discovered the mole that Mycroft asked him to find.

“Look at you,” Belzer yell. “What is it that they call you? The Iceman. You are the reason those men died, not me. You refused to give me a chance. One stroke of your pen and I was turned down as an agent and forced to watch all the glory go to men half as talented as I am. Well, I’m not going to allow you to ruin my life further.” 

Multiple things happened at once. Belzer pulled the trigger, Mycroft pushed Anthea out of the way, and Sherlock jumped at Belzer, knocking him to the ground punching the traitor until he heard Anthea yell, “Mycroft.” Looking where his brother had stood, the detective discovered Mycroft on the ground, holding his side while blood ran through his fingers.

The rest of the agents arrived and pushed Sherlock off the traitor who raced to his brother, he removed his scarf and pressed it onto the wound. “Mycroft! What have you done?”

Mycroft attempted to get up only to be pushed back down by both Sherlock and Anthea. “Let me up. I’m fine.” 

“An ambulance has been called and will be here soon, so just lay there,” Anthea ordered angrily. “What do you think you were doing? 

Sherlock was livid, “That was the most asinine thing you have ever done. Do you have a death wish? What were you thinking if you were thinking at all?”

Mycroft raised his voice to quiet them. “I reacted to him attempting to shoot Anthea.”

“She is your bloody bodyguard,” Sherlock yelled at him.

“I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around,” Anthea was fuming.

“Enough,” Mycroft lowered his voice shaking his head in disbelief. “I did what needed to be done to save your life, Anthea.”

The arrival of the MI5 ambulance crew put the discussion on hold. “I don’t need an ambulance.” The government official declared.

“Shut up,” came from Sherlock and Anthea together.

A pout almost as bad as Sherlock’s worse appeared on Mycroft’s face. “Fine, take me to our medical center,” then glance at the two, “Happy.”

“We haven’t finished with this discussion,” Sherlock informed his brother as he was being loaded into the ambulance.

“We aren’t either,” Anthea added.

“I’m sure,” Mycroft grumbled as he disappeared into the ambulance and the doors closed.

Pacing the waiting room, Sherlock was becoming angrier. “What was he thinking? What would his precious country do if he died?” then quietly added, “What would I do?” before collapsing on the recliner.

The doctor interrupted Anthea before she could say anything.

“Mr. Holmes will be fine. He is insisting on going home. I’m against it, but he is signing himself out. Will someone be staying with him?” the doctor asked.

“It will be taken care of,” Anthea assured him as Sherlock said, “I will.” 

A few moments later, Mycroft appeared, pale and moving slowly, but determined to leave. “Bring my car around,” he ordered.

Once seated, Mycroft watched as his brother ignored him by looking out the window. Nothing was said until the brothers were inside the house. “Sherlock? I feel we should talk about this,” Mycroft suggested.

“I suggest you get cleaned up first. We wouldn’t want you to get an infection from your clothes covered in the parking lot’s dirt.” Sherlock said as he walked away from his brother.

Shaking his head, Mycroft slowly climbed the stairs, gathered clean clothes, and headed into the bathroom. After washing up, brushing his teeth, and using the loo, he went in search of his brother. Not finding him in their shared bedroom, he found Sherlock in his old bedroom staring out the window. Cigarette smoke rising from him.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft received no answer.

Mycroft joined his brother at the window, placing his arms around his waist, “I thought you gave up smoking.” When he received no answer, “You’re angry.”

Without turning around, “What were you thinking, jumping in front of the bullet?” The anger hadn’t decreased. 

“Sherlock,” he sighed, “I saw the danger and reacted to it. It was what I was trained to do.”

Turning around abruptly, “And how many years ago was that? You aren’t as young or fast as you were when you were trained.”

“I keep in shape,” Mycroft defended himself.

Anger continued to climb, and Sherlock shouted. “It’s not the same. You have a bloody bodyguard that moves faster than you can. Why did you feel it was necessary to protect her instead of the other way around?”

“I just responded when I saw her in trouble. She is not only my bodyguard but also a dear friend.” Mycroft’s anger now began to show.

“Then maybe it’s time to get a new bodyguard as you seem to forget what her job is.”

“Stop it. Just stop it. You’re acting like a child,” the words were out of Mycroft’s mouth before he could stop them.

“A CHILD! You almost get killed because you do something irresponsible, and I’m the child.”

Trying to calm down, “Sherlock, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just tired and sore. Can we go lay down, please?” Mycroft pleaded.

“Yes, you did. You have always looked at me that way. Sherlock needs watching; Sherlock is impulsive; make sure Sherlock doesn’t insult anyone. You obviously still look at me that way.” 

Sherlock started to walk away, but Mycroft grabbed his arm. “I am sorry. As for the rest, John suggested that he help keep you alive as your roommate, and I agreed to his suggestion because I care, not because you are a child. I promise.” 

The look on Sherlock's face showed Mycroft had made another mistake. A deep hurt was heard in the younger man’s voice. “You and John? So now you two decide what is good for me?”

Sherlock grabbed his coat from the bed, “Well, you and John can keep your concerns to yourself. If you believe I’m a child, then this child will do things his way.”

Sherlock pushed past his brother and thundered down the stairs ignoring Mycroft’s cries of ‘Sherlock.’ “My god, what have I done?” Mycroft asked as he sat down on the stairs, rare tears running down his cheeks. “Oh Sherlock, please forgive me and come back to me. Know I love you with all my heart and always will.”


	2. Anger is Today's Agenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has discussions with Sherlock, Greg, and Mycroft. His anger over the brother's affair is made clear. Greg helps out his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, if you are a John fan, you're not going to like him in this.

“Can I have another beer while you’re up John?” Greg asked. He had come over with a file Sherlock had asked for the day before, but he wasn’t surprised that the detective wasn’t there. “When do you think his nips will return?”

“I’m not sure when he’ll grace me with his presence. Earlier, he texted, saying that Mycroft was hurt and would be home later. Since he’s been with his brother, I don’t see him unless there’s a case he needs me to assist him with. ”A trace of bitterness could be heard in John’s voice as he handed the beer to Greg. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe they have lasted this long.”

“And why do you say that?” Greg remembered how angry John had been learning about this relationship but thought he had gotten over it. However, the bitterness seemed that he didn’t.

“I just mean they both are so set in their ways. Besides with their intelligence, I would expect fireworks at times.”

Greg defended his friend, “I’m sure they can work out anything. They’re devoted to each other.” He hoped John wasn’t still yearning to get with Sherlock.

Holding up his hands, John said, “I don’t wish for their breakup if that’s what you’re thinking, but I’m sure sometime soon Sherlock will see this isn’t right. If discovered, the consequences will cause them major problems. The age difference is enough to create its own problems. After all, what they are doing is illegal and immoral. I can’t imagine their devotion is stronger than keeping their job.”

“For my part, I believe they would leave England if that is what they needed to be together. John, you sound angry about their relationship. I thought you accepted it.”

“I find this relationship unhealthy to Sherlock. He needs someone like me to keep him in control,” John’s resentment of the brothers’ relationship was clear.

“John!” Lestrade was concern about John's remaining resentment. “Can’t you see their love…….” the front door slamming stopped him from saying more.

The pounding of feet on the stairs had the men looking at the door. It was thrown open to reveal a furious detective. Glaring at John, Sherlock headed toward his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

“Sherlock,” John called out. “What did your brother do this time?”

“Why don’t you check with him? I’m sure he would be happy to tell you what a child I was.” Sherlock shouted back at him.

“What?”

“Go away, Watson. I have nothing more to say to you.” Sherlock yelled as drawers and closets could be heard opening and banging shut. 

John was up and shoved open Sherlock’s door. “Sherlock, what in the bloody hell is going on?”

Sherlock ignored him while filling a suitcase.

Grabbing Sherlock’s arm, he swung him around, slapping him across the face. “Do not ignore me. I asked you a question and expect you to answer me.”

Hearing the slap, Gregg quickly went into Sherlock’s room and pulled John off Sherlock’s arm. “John, what do you think are you doing?”

John was angry, “I expect this idiot to answer me when I speak to him.”

Taking the moment of John’s distraction, Sherlock grabbed the packed suitcase heading toward the door. “Gavin, I need a place to stay tonight. Can I use your couch?”

“Sherlock, get back here right now and answer my question,” John yelled.

Ignoring the doctor, Sherlock asked again starting down the stairs. “Gary?”

“It’s Greg, but whatever you need,” Greg answered, then looked at John. “You need to cool down. He’s his own person and not your responsibility.”

“He is acting like a child again, and needs to learn his place,” John started to storm toward the door.

Greg stood in his way. “Leave him, John. Calm down.”

“GAVIN, are you coming or not?” 

“I’m coming. Just give me a second to get my jacket on,” Greg called back. Glaring at John, “Stay away until he’s ready to talk to you, and you come to your senses,” he ordered, grabbing the folder he had brought and heading for the car.

When he reached his car, he found the detective sitting in it. “Hey, I had that locked.” He complained, sliding into the driver's seat.

Sherlock smirked. “I can’t help that you were so slow.”

Shaking his head, Greg asked before starting the car, “How often has that happen?” When he received no answer, he asked, “Want to talk about it?” Seeing the look on Sherlock’s reddened face, he decided to give the detective time and began driving toward home.

\-------------------------------

Meanwhile, John called Mycroft. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “Sherlock just left with a suitcase after yelling at me. He didn’t listen to a word I said.”

“Good afternoon Dr. Watson,” Mycroft answered calmly. “I made a mistake and told him we had talked about his safety. He wasn’t very accepting of the idea.”

“Did you tell him everything?” an angry John questioned.

“Not everything, your part in the agreement wasn’t discussed?”

John demanded, “You need to get him back here. He needs to be supervised before he does something stupid again.”

“At this point, Dr. Watson, I have no idea what my brother’s plans are, but I doubt he’ll listen to either one of us for a while. I suggest you allow him time to settle down, or he might try to find out about the agreement. I don’t think you want him to do that.” Mycroft then hung up the phone.

“Wait for him to calm down? I don’t think so. I’ll have to take things into my own hands.” John spoke into the empty apartment. “He will do what I tell him one way or another.”

\--------------------------------

Greg unlocked his door, moving aside to allow Sherlock to enter. Once coats were hung, Greg made tea. “This isn’t as good as John’s,” Sherlock complained after he had taken a sip.

“Sorry, you git. I prefer coffee. If it’s not up to your standard, you could always make it yourself.”

Taking another sip, “It will pass for now.”

“Oi, enough out of you.” Greg decided to address the issue again. “Sherlock?”

“No!”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Greg objected. 

Looking serious, Sherlock answered, “No, I don’t want to talk about it. No, I don’t want to let Mycroft or John know where I am. And no, I’m not hungry. Have I missed anything?”

“Okay, you know most of what I was going to say. But one other thing, how often does John treat you like that?”

“Another thing I don’t wish to talk about,” Sherlock answered, rubbing where John had hit him.

“I can tell this isn’t the first time he hit you. I can do something about it if you want,” Greg offered.

“Don’t. I deserved it, so don’t do anything,” Sherlock muttered.

“There is nothing you’ve done to justify being abused,” Greg was angry that Sherlock believed that he earned the abuse. “Have you spoken to Mycroft about John. I don’t know what happened between you and your brother, but he would never allow it to happen.”

“He told John to watch me. I’m sure he would welcome it.” Sherlock sat slumped down on the couch and looked defeated.

“Look Sherlock, you know better than that. Mycroft loves you and lover spats happen all the time. You need a little time to think about it, and you’ll see I’m right.”

Sitting up straight, he scowled at Greg. “I don’t need advice from someone who let his wife walk all over him for years. Thanks, but I think I’ll skip your opinion.”

“Sherlock, I’m more concerned about what John did. Is this the first time he hit you for not doing what he wanted.?”

“I can take care of myself, so don’t worry about it,” with that Sherlock laid down on the couch, his back to the room. Obviously, the conversation was finished.


	3. So Buzz Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Greg investigate a crime scene. Mycroft shows up, upsetting Sherlock and learning something he was unaware of.

A few hours later, Greg’s phone rang. Sherlock could hear the conversation and became excited. It was just what he needed to get his mind off his brother and best friend’s betrayal. He waited for Greg to come in and ask for his help pretending he hadn’t overheard the call.

“Sherlock?” 

“Yes, Lestrade.”

“There’s a case I could use your help on, three dead in a warehouse. Interested?”

Hiding his gleeful shout, “I suppose if you need me, I’ll have to come.”

Greg turned to put on his coat with a smile on his face. “Do you want me to call John to meet us there?”

“Why on earth would I do that? I am quite capable of solving cases without him unless you feel you need him instead of me,” Sherlock’s response left no doubt he wouldn’t be going if John was.

“Just asking. Let’s go.”

\-------------------------------

Donovan met them at the crime scene, “Where’s John, freak? Did he decide that he had enough of your behavior?”

“I notice your knees are clean for a change. Clearly you haven’t been with Anderson lately. His wife must be back in town,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked by.

“I never,” Donovan shouted back.

Sherlock turned around, “I know. You never say no. Now excuse me, I have a crime to solve.” Then he continued on his way into the building.

The three men were lying on the concrete floor, their heads touching while their arms were interlocked to each other. Between two of the men was room for one more. Each body had the word snitch carved into their chest and their removed tongues lying below the word. Sherlock knelt, smelling and touching before sitting back on his heels.

Entering the room, Anderson announced. “These men obviously had a suicide pact.”

“Did you figure that out by yourself? Is that all your little mind could come up with? Wrong!?”

Sherlock's offensive comment caused Anderson to demand, “So how did they die then?”

“That’s enough, everyone. We’re here to solve this situation, not insult each other,” Greg shook his head. He didn’t need the usual arguments between his staff and the consulting detective. “Sherlock, what did you find?”

“First, they are street people. Look at their clothes, dirty nails, and unkempt appearance. Second, each was tortured before being killed. Examine their bare feet. Whoever brutalized them, beat the bottom of their feet until they talked.”

“That could be from walking without shoes. As you said, they are street people,” Anderson interrupted.

Sherlock shot back, “Use your eyes for once. No one could walk on that bruising or with the broken bones of their feet. Now, as I was saying, if you examine the bodies closely, you’ll find they were killed at different times. I’d say starting about two days ago,” pointing to the first, then the second body, “About one day ago. And this one no more than a few hours ago. I believe they were given a few pounds to spy on someone, and as each was found out, he was tortured to get another name. And from the space that is left, I have a feeling we’ll find another man soon looking similar.”

“And who would that someone be?” Greg asked.

A tap, tap, tap was followed by “Quite right little brother,” Mycroft said as he entered the building. “And now, Inspector, I must relieve you of this case.” He glanced at Sherlock with a longing.

Greg sputtered, “But…”

Was all the DI said before Sherlock butted in, “They are neither M15 or M16 or whatever else you have your nose in this week. So, buzz off and interfere with someone else.”

“National Security,” Mycroft began. 

Sherlock's bitterness at his brother caused him to lose what was left of his control, triggering his temper to take over. “National Security bull. You paid my network a few pounds to listen and report things that they saw or heard. Then when they are murdered, you show up to cover up what you did before it can become known to the general public that the government is using the street people to do their dirty work. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call a news conference and tell them what you did.”

The two men stared at each other before Mycroft backed off. Greg had never seen this outcome and stood silently as the ‘British Government’ turn to Sherlock. “Call me if you find that you can’t handle this case,” he ordered.

Mycroft went to place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and opened his mouth, Sherlock glared at him, “Don’t.”

The older Holmes’ face fell as he watched his brother walk away, coat flying behind him. Turning around, he started to walk toward his car without another word to anyone.

Greg called out, “So it’s still our case?”

“Do as you wish. Apparently, my brother feels he can solve it. We’ll see how it goes,” Mycroft replied.

“Mycroft, are you okay?” Greg placed his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder.

The British Government raised his chin. “I’m fine, Inspector. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You Holmes’. I wish you two would get your act together.” Greg huffed. “Neither of you are okay. Just admit it; say you’re sorry and get back together.”

Mycroft sighed. “He's so angry Lestrade, and I'm afraid for him. I made a horrible mistake yelling at him and making him feel like a child and that I don’t trust him. I didn’t mean a word of it.”

“The problem is he has never done well with his feelings. When he's angry, he rushes into situations without caring about his own life. I'm afraid he’ll do something foolish and get hurt,” Mycroft turned to the DI. “Greg, I know he’s staying with you. Please, keep an eye on him for me. I love him too much to lose him physically, even if I’ve lost his love.”

“You haven’t lost him. He’ll come around. I'll try my best to always look out for him. He's a friend, and that's what friends do.”  
Greg watched as Mycroft walked away, shoulders slumped with his head down. 

“Mycroft,” he called out, stopping the man. Catching up with him, he asked. “Do you know how John has been treating Sherlock

“Treating him? I was under the impression that he watches my brother’s back on cases and tries to keep him from being too rude, as we agreed.” Mycroft said.

“He does more than that. Today when Sherlock came in angry and ignoring John, the doctor slapped him, and I don’t think it was the first time.”

“My brother never told me. I’ll check into it. Thank you, Greg.” Mycroft walked toward his car with his shoulders no longer slumped. He had trusted Watson to protect his brother. Although he had a camera in their flat, he didn’t think it was necessary to observe the interaction of the doctor and his brother at home. Now he saw his mistake. It was time to look over the tapes from 221B and see what had been happening.

Greg knew that both men were suffering, and he wasn't sure how to help either one. However, maybe trying to find out what had been happening between John and Sherlock would be a step toward getting them back together. 

He stood there for a moment before his attention was called away by Sally, “Are we done for now?”  
Greg came out of his thoughts. “I'm sorry, Sally. Let’s finish up here and go home.” He said before turning to join his team at the crime scene.

\-------------------------------


	4. He Will Do What I Tell Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John demands that Sherlock returns home. Greg gets angry. Mycroft finds out things he didn't know.

During the next month, the detective tried to forget Mycroft and John. Sherlock worked consistently appearing at crime scenes, examined them, and gave his findings. John showed up more than once but was ignored each time. When he attempted to talk to an unwilling Sherlock, Greg stepped in, asking him to leave. Earlier that day, Greg had to remove John’s tightened hand from Sherlock's shoulder and at home later, the DI saw bruises on the younger man where the doctor had grabbed the detective. 

“Sherlock, let me do something about John hurting you. I have seen bruises more than once. If nothing else, allow me to inform your brother about what has been happening. You can’t deny that he has been hitting you at other times,” the DI offered once more, but Sherlock refused to allow him to follow through.

“He’s my friend, and I made him angry. Just leave it be.”

“Sherlock, he’s not a friend if he hurts you.”

“Please,” Sherlock asked, walking into the bathroom, “He is my best friend. What would I do without him?”

Greg just sighed, “As you wish.”

\----------------------------------

The rotting fourth body was discovered after six weeks. Hoping that this one had enough clues to help him solve this and the other deaths, Sherlock ignored Donovan and Anderson’s abusive comments, as he smelled, tasted, and used his magnifying glass to look over every inch of the corpse.

Donovan sneered. “Where’s John? Did he finally get smart and abandoned you?”

Anderson mocked, “No, he probably did him in and buried the body.” 

Just as Greg came around the corner, Donovan sniggered. “What’s a matter, Freak? Finally, did John figure out that no one can put up with you and leave?”

“Anderson, Donovan! I warned you. Both of you are suspended for the next three days, leave right now.”

Anderson protested. “But boss. It obviously doesn’t bother him. After all, he’s a machine without feelings,”

“Four days, and if you open your mouth again, it will be a month.”

The two stormed off, mumbling just low enough that no one could understand what they were saying.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Sherlock insisted as he threw his scarf around his neck. “I’ll see you at home. I want to check out a few leads.”

“Sherlock, I should have put a stop to the name-calling quite a while ago. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ve seen your face when they call you Freak and other things. You aren’t any of those things.”

“Just forget it. I’ve already deleted their comments.”

Greg knew he would get no place with Sherlock, “If you wish. Now about those leads, please don’t do anything stupid. Call for back-up if you find something.”

“You know me, Lestrade.”

“I do, that’s why I’m asking you to be careful.”

The only answer Greg received was a smirk from the detective before he hailed a cab and left.

\---------------------

One of the leads that Sherlock was investigating led to the killer’s hideout. A fight ensued when he approached the murderer, and although Sherlock managed to knock out the killer, he was stabbed in the process.

Sitting down against the wall, he tried to control the bleeding. He had no way to call for help as he had lost his phone during the skirmish.

Black dots appeared before his eyes, and one of them looked like Greg.

“Sherlock, you need to stop chasing criminals without someone to cover your back,” Greg ordered as he held pressure on the knife wound.

“I can take care of myself,” Sherlock protested.

“If you do this once more without backup, you will receive no further cases from me. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Greg yelled.

“Sure, sure,” Sherlock answered as the ambulance crew came running down the alley. “I managed to get your warehouse killer without help, and you will be able to question him as to why he did it. So, what’s the problem?”

“You idiot. You could have died in this warehouse if I hadn’t asked your brother to find where you were.” the DI angrily said. 

“I could have taken care of this little problem by myself. You didn’t have to call my busybody brother.” Sherlock mumbled.

Greg pointed to the detective, “Take this idiot out of my sight before I finish the job myself,”

\----------------------------------

Entering the hospital after following the ambulance in, Greg saw John coming out of it, head down and his hands in fists. “John, what are you doing here?”

“I’m Sherlock’s contact. When I arrived, he saw me coming toward the room and told the staff I wasn’t to be allowed in. He’s acting like a child again.” John's comment was laced with anger. “When will he learn that he needs someone to make sure he doesn’t do stupid things. He needs to respect my guidance.”

Lestrade couldn’t believe what he heard. “Maybe,” he said through clenched teeth. “If you gave him the acknowledgment that he deserves, he would respect what you have to say. He is a grown man, not a child who needs you to babysit.” 

“Oh!” John’s voice was rising. “I noticed you didn’t keep him from getting injured.”

“He did what he always does. Ran off without backup, but that was his choice. He needs a friend, not a minder.”

John glared at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He needs someone to make appropriate decisions for him, and his brother chose me to be that person. I’m tired of him thinking he can stay away from home like this. I intend for him to leave with me now and to make sure he understands who’s in charge.”

Greg was now angry, “And how would you do that? Hit him again?”

John shouted back, “I do what is needed to keep him from doing brainless things.”

Sherlock appeared behind them, standing tall and seeming fine. “That’s not what I require. I need someone who cares and is my friend, not a spy for my brother. I don’t intend to go back to my flat if you’re there. Now, if you excuse us, I’m ready to go home with Greg.”

“Who permitted you to leave? You signed yourself out again, didn’t you? You belong in the hospital,” John spit out. “Or at home where I can observe you. Now stop this nonsense and get a taxi to take us to the flat if you insist on leaving.” John attempted to grab Sherlock’s arm.

But Greg stepped between them, “Keep your hands off him.”

“I was released, and Greg can keep an eye on me just fine. Now, if you excuse me, we need to leave.” Sherlock headed toward the car, leaving an open mouth John behind him. He had almost reached the door when John managed to get around Greg and yanked Sherlock’s arm. Pulling his arm away, Sherlock hissed with pain and hurried to the car.

“You’ll see,” he angerly told the DI. “He can’t take care of himself.”

“If you touch him again, I’ll arrest you whether he wants me to or not,” Greg informed John.

“It won’t be long before you discover, he doesn’t listen to you. You forget I have a contract with his brother to take care of him, and I intend to do just that wait and see.” John said before stomping off.

When Greg reached the car, he found Sherlock looking white and shaking. “Are you sure you’re well enough to leave?”

“Just drive,” Sherlock muttered. 

Nodding, Greg started the car. “I think it about time, Mycroft is informed of John’s behavior.”

“No, please don’t,” the silence only lasted a few minutes before Sherlock said, ‘What a fool I’ve been. I thought he was my friend.’

“I’m sorry that happened and that you overheard his ranting.”

“Do you think… “Sherlock began then stopped only to start again. “Has this all been……” Shaking his head, “Never mind.”

Greg pulled the car over and looked at his passenger. “I’m not sure about John, but I don’t believe Mycroft feels that way. Sure, he’s overprotective and a busybody, but that man loves you more than England itself and wants you safe.”

Relaxing some, Sherlock closed his eyes, “I know.”


	5. Disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft finds out about John's treatment of Sherlock before a disaster happens. Sherlock is lost as to what to do. John oversteps one time too many times.

Mycroft sat in his private office in the Diogenes Club looking at the computer screen. He couldn’t believe that he had trusted Doctor Watson. The pen he was holding scattered as it broke in his hand. Sending the tea set and everything else on his desk flying across the room, he called Anthea in.

“Sir?” she asked on entering the room and looking at the mess but said nothing about it.

“I will be sending you some dates and times of my brother’s flat that I want you to retrieve. The information is to be sent to me in two hours. I have a conference call with the PM of Sweden in five minutes and can’t leave.”

“Is there anything, in particular, you are looking for?”

“I’ve looked them over already. I want a copy of those films on those dates and times in case I need to prove something to my brother,” Mycroft ordered, “And Anthea, I want the name of the person who was responsible at that time.”

Hearing the anger in Mycroft’s voice, she knew someone would be out of a job. “Yes, sir Should I send someone in to clean up the mess.” 

“Tell the housekeeper that I’ll call when I finish with the PM.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll deal with this other issue personally. And have the person or persons here who worked on those days.” 

Mycroft smiled as she left his office. He knew she would do what was required.

A man watched as Anthea left her desk to go to the communications officer in the MI5 building before he walked to Mycroft’s office. Leaving a briefcase right outside the door, he left quickly.

\------------------------------------

Later in the day, Sherlock turned on the news after Greg had left to fill out the forms from the arrest. “Take care of yourself. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just watch some crap TV and sleep.”

“Remember, the doctor said no activities for a few weeks.”

“Yes, mother, I remember. Just leave I’ll be fine.”

As he was falling asleep, he said up quickly when the TV program he was watching was interrupted.

“NOW BREAKING NEWS,” flashed across the scene. 

“Just into the newsroom, the Diogenes Club was attacked this afternoon. Several deaths have been confirmed, and multiple others are being raced to the hospital. The club is known for its upper-class clientele. Among those who frequent the club are some of the richest and most prominent members of society. The clientele includes the Duke ….” Was all Sherlock heard before racing out the door, phone to his ear, trying to reach his brother. 

When he received no answer, he tried Anthea, “Sherlock, he’s coming to our health center. A black car will be picking you up in one minute.”

“Is he?”

“At this point, they are working to keep him breathing. Sherlock, it’s not good.”

A black car pulled up to the curb, and before it stopped, Sherlock was yanking the door open and jumping in.

The ride was silent. Sherlock sat in the back seat, legs shaking, and praying (yes praying he admitted) to a God he wasn’t sure of but begged him to save his brother. What a fool he was. For over a month, he hadn’t spoken to the man he loved, and now he may never get to tell him he still loved him. His thoughts were interrupted by several messages from John coming in. He ignored the phone, thinking only of his brother.

Arriving, Sherlock leaped out of the car before it stopped and ran through the checkpoints in the private hospital. No one attempted to stop him as Anthea had forewarned them that he would be coming. The PA was waiting for him outside a private waiting room.

“Mycroft?” he pleaded for any information she would give him.

“Still in surgery. We know that he was the target, as it was placed right outside his door. If he had been at his desk, he wouldn’t have made it. When the bomb went off, he had just opened the door of the bathroom. Although hit indirectly, the door protected him from the direct blast, falling ceiling beams, and glass that landed on top of the door and caused less damage than otherwise. For right now, they have stopped the internal bleeding. The last report said he needed his spleen removed but that they were able to save all his other organs. It will be another couple of hours before he is brought to his room.”

“Will I be able to be with him? That is if he wants to see me,” Sherlock meekly asked.

“I’m sure he’ll want you there. I’ve arranged a cot for you and a recliner,” seeing the uncertainty in the younger man’s eyes, she smiled. “He loves you more than life itself. Don’t worry.” The younger man’s phone beeped again with three messages in a row. Sherlock glanced at the phone but ignored it once more.

A little later, Lestrade came after being called by Anthea to keep Sherlock company. “He needs a friend right now.” She had informed the DI, and he had hurried to be with the young man.

The two men sat quietly while waiting for information. Meanwhile, Anthea kept the upper levels of the government informed of Mycroft’s condition and giving orders to those who were supervising and investigating the bombing.

“Your phone is beeping,” Lestrade called Sherlock’s attention to it.

“It’s John wanting to make up again. I had blocked his old number, and this is a new one. Pay no attention to it.”

Anthea joined the men as the doctor appeared still in his bloody scrubs. “Mr. Holmes,” he addressed the detective who didn’t lookup. Instead, he was lost in his mind palace thinking of all the wonderful things his brother and he had enjoyed.

The DI touched Sherlock, “The doctor is here.” 

Sherlock looked up, confused. “He just finished with your brother and wants to give you a report,” Anthea explained.

“Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock, my brother is Mr. Holmes.” The younger Holmes said as if in a fog.

“Sherlock, your brother is in recovery. He’s doing as well as can be expected from his injuries. I had to remove his spleen to stop the bleeding. There is also a concussion, broken leg, arm, and ribs all on his right side where the door was pressed into him from the fall beams. He is lucky. If it weren’t for the door, he would have been hit by the beams directly and not be here with us. Give us a few more hours to stabilize him, and then you will be able to see him. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to make sure he is settled appropriately.”

When Sherlock said nothing, Anthea thanked the doctor and walked him out, once they were in the hall, the doctor asked. “Will that young man be alright, or should I send something in to relax him?”

“No, thanks. The DI and I’ll take care of him. Once he sees his brother, he’ll be fine.”

It was about 90 minutes later that a nurse led them into Mycroft’s room. The paleness of his face caused his freckles to seem darker making them the only spot of color they could see.

Sherlock almost fell after touching Mycroft’s cold hand. He would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for Greg helping him to the chair.

“He so white,” Sherlock mumbled. “I could have lost him without him knowing that I still love him.”

Greg hugged him, “He knows. Drink this.” Anthea had handed the DI a glass of water.

Sherlock's phone continuously beeped, advising him of messages. Looking only a few times before turning it off, he saw the questioning look of Anthea, “John consistently demanding I stop being a child and answer him.”

“I can take care of that if you wish,” the PA smiled. She cared very little about John since he had beaten Sherlock after Mary’s death and would have loved taking care of the man.

“Forget him,” Sherlock answered before moving the chair closer to his brother to hold his hand. “I’m here, Mickie, hang on for me. I need you so much.” He whispered to the unconscious man.

Greg went to get tea for all of them while Sherlock softly talked to his brother. When the DI came back, he saw Anthea outside the door. “How is he?”

“The doctor said he'd make it but will need a long convalescent time, and someone will need to stay with him for it.” She informed him.

“I know just the person," Greg said with a smirk.

“I think it will help them both to heal,” she opened the door, and the two entered quietly.

They sat for a while before hearing a drunken voice demanding Sherlock. The door to Mycroft’s room slammed open as John plowed in. “I knew I’d find you here,” he screamed.

Lestrade stood up, heading toward him. “John, get out of here.”

“Why? This child thinks he loves that monster in the bed who uses love to chain Sherlock to him. He needs me to teach him right from wrong, and this immoral and illegal affair is wrong. Now come on, we’re leaving,” John slurred as he tried to yang Sherlock up, almost losing his balance. “If I’m not with you, you destroy everything you touch. Look what you did to your brother. He is dying because of your actions.”

“I didn’t….” Sherlock cried out, but John cut him off.

“Come with me now, Sherlock, before someone else gets killed.”

Greg grabbed John and forced him out of the room as Sherlock ran out the door, tears running down his cheeks. Anthea ran after the young man while Greg pushed John into the arms of Mycroft’s security that had arrived in answer to the PA’s summoning.


	6. Anthea Rocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea takes over the different situations that are happening.

Anthea and Greg almost caught up to Sherlock, but he ran blindly into the street right in front of a truck. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The high-pitched squealing of the breaks as the driver attempted to avoid hitting Sherlock. The front of the truck struck him, sending the detective flying onto the hood. As he rolled off the hood, the slowing front wheels ran over his legs, leaving Sherlock laying under the truck. The watching pedestrians screaming, and Anthea and Greg yelling “Sherlock” shattered the silence that had fallen during the accident.

Running to Sherlock, they knelt beside him. They found him bleeding from multiple places and unconscious. Anthea yelled for someone to run into the hospital for help. Soon, a gurney with attendants appeared pushing Greg out of the way. Carefully Sherlock was placed on the gurney and rushed into the ER.

As they followed the gurney in, John past them while being escorted out by Mycroft’s security. Seeing Sherlock on the gurney, he yelled at Anthea and Greg. “It’s your fault. I told you he needs a babysitter. If he dies, it will be on your head.”

Anthea moved quickly towards MI5 agents who were removing John. When she reached them, she slapped the doctor across the face, twice. “Shut up Watson. If you say one more word about Sherlock, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“How dare you hit me. You all saw what that woman did. Greg, I want her arrested.”

“Just take him away,” Greg ordered, shaking his head sadly.

“You can’t do that. I’m an English citizen and have rights.” John insisted.

“Seeing Mycroft is unavailable, I’m in charge. Take him to our holding cell to be dealt with later.”

John yelled, “Who do you people think you are?”

“Shut up Dr. Watson. A warning, if you dare ever come near Sherlock again, you won’t have to worry about being a citizen of any country.” Anthea informed John.

Anthea motioned to Greg, “Sherlock’s going to need us,” then turned to the security, “Gentlemen lock Watson in a deep hole. Mr. Holmes will deal with him later.”

Entering the hospital, the pair heard John outside screaming for his rights and what he would do to them when he was released before the guards were able to get the fighting man in the car.

“He’s very angry. What is going to happen to him?” Greg asked.

“I’m going to let him cool his heels until Mycroft can decide what to do with him. If I had my way, he would never see the light of day again after what he has done to Sherlock.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t care for Sherlock,” Greg asked as they were walking after.

“You, for one, should know that he grows on you,” Anthea said.

Greg smiled, “He does, doesn’t he?”

As they waited for the results of Sherlock’s surgery, Greg and Anthea stayed in Mycroft’s room in case he woke. Mycroft began to show signs of waking but didn’t open his eyes yet.

Several hours later, the surgeon came in. Indicating Greg and Anthea should join him in the hall.

“I hope there isn’t any other Holmes that I’m going to be operating on today,” he said as he led them to the recovery room.

“Mr. Holmes the younger is out of surgery, and he’s doing well. He has a broken left leg and cracked ribs from the wheels, also a concussion and bruises from landing on the ground. Give us a little while to stabilize him. I understand you requested he should share his brother’s room. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll need to get some rest, but I’ll be on call if needed.” 

After the doctor left, Greg glanced at Anthea. “You suggested putting them together?”

“Well, highly recommended. It will decrease the number of agents we need to guard the brothers.”

Smiling at her, Greg teased, “Is that the reason you’ll use to justify the arrangement.”

Anthea grinned back, “Sounded good to me. After all, they need to talk. I’m hungry, with Mycroft still out and Sherlock not in his room yet, let’s get a little lunch.”

Greg’s stomach growled. “I don’t look forward to the hospital food, but I am hungry.”

“I can do better than that.” With that, she tapped a few lines on her phone. “It should be here in half an hour.”

They waited in silence for a while before Greg said, “What is going to happen to John?”

“I know you’re his friend,” Anthea started, but Greg interrupted her.

“I’m not too sure about that right now. After what John has done to Sherlock, it’s hard to continue to be his friend. I know that he can’t continue to do this to Sherlock.”

“You're correct. For now, I’m going to leave him cool off and sober up until I can talk to Mycroft. I’m afraid that I don’t see him changing his beliefs about them. The Holms situation has set Doctor Watson off more than once. He always hoped to have Sherlock for himself.”

Greg disagreed. “That isn’t right as he always said he wasn’t gay,”

Anthea clarified what she meant. “Yes, he would shout it from the rooftop if he could. I don’t believe he actually loves Sherlock, but rather he wants to possess him.”

“John said he was offered money by Mycroft to watch his brother, is that true?” 

Nodding, Anthea agreed. “Mycroft did offer money to Dr. Watson at the beginning of their living together, but he turned it down at that time. When Sherlock found out that Mycroft had kidnapped John, the doctor told him that Mycroft offered a monthly sum for telling him what his brother was up to that he refused. Doctor Watson never told Sherlock about the contract that he insisted on a little later.”

“John has a contract?”

“It’s not my place to tell you about it, but just know Sherlock would be devastated to know about it.” 

“Then, I hope Sherlock never finds out.”

“I believe you didn’t know that your people’s insults encourage John to use them as a weapon against Sherlock. When they return home, John uses the comments to humiliate Sherlock by stating that he deserves their name-calling because of his behavior. John also dismisses anything Sherlock did that John doesn’t approve of.”

“I didn’t know that John was doing that to Sherlock. I have taken steps to put a stop to the insults. However, I did lately notice Sherlock isn’t responding as much to the comments and is quieter on the scenes. He also looks at John before making some moves. I should have recognized that something was happening.”

“Don’t feel bad, even Mycroft didn’t catch it until you said something, and he looked over the tapes from their flat. He was planning to deal with Dr. Watson when the bombing occurred.”

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the food. It smelt great and even tasted better. Beef Filets with mushrooms covered in Portobello Sauce a side of crusty French bread and mixed salad, and a light lemon dessert, had Greg rubbing his stomach. 

After pushing his dish back, Greg said, “Now that is what I consider a light lunch.” 

Anthea laughed, “We usually don’t get much of a dinner break, so we tend to have a large lunch around noon, as most of the rest of the building is out and doesn’t disturb us. I take it that you enjoyed the meal.”

Just as they finished their lunch, Sherlock was brought into the room. Noise from the nurses dealing with the younger man disturbed Mycroft, and he opened his eyes.”

Greg approached Mycroft's bed lightly touching his shoulder. Mycroft looking toward the DI. “Mycroft, it’s me Greg and Anthea’s here also. You’re in the hospital and have lines and machines hooked up, so don’t move too much.”

Mycroft looked around, and when he didn’t see what he was looking for, he had a disappointed look on his face.

Anthea knew what he was looking for, “Sir, Sherlock is here too,” She then moved away from the side of the bed that was blocking his view of Sherlock. 

Lifting his head, Mycroft saw his brother lying in the bed next to him. “What?” was all he could get out until Anthea gave him a few ice chips.

“He was hit by a truck. But sir, he’ll be fine.”

“What is wrong with my brother?” Mycroft’s voice slowly came easier after a few more ice chips.

“He was here but became upset and ran out not paying attention to his surroundings,” Greg explained.

Mycroft squeaked out, “I heard a loud voice before. Is that what upset him?”

Anthea tried to redirect him, “Sir, right now, be assured that he’s going to be okay. We can talk about the rest later when you’re doing better.”

“Answer me right now! I heard other voices yelling. Who was that?” Mycroft managed to sit up as he became aggravated before a coughing fit left him short of breath.

“John was drunk and said some things that upset him, but the situation has been taken care of,” Anthea explained, hoping that Mycroft would drop it for now.

Mycroft demanded, “What was done?” The sound of Sherlock beginning to moan had the three looked toward his bed. Anthea put her hand on Sherlock. “Take it easy. You had surgery and now are in your room.”

Greg hugged Sherlock as lightly as he could. “I knew that you wouldn’t be out as long as Mycroft. You always react differently than others to drugs.” 

Mycroft demanded, “I want to see Sherlock.”.

“Sir, you can’t get up,” Anthea put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him down.

“I want to see my brother, now.” Coughing again, Greg and Anthea had to stop him from trying to get up again. 

“One second Mycroft,” When Anthea saw what Greg intended to do, she took the other end of the bed and an IV pole before they pushed the two beds together so that the brother’s hands could touch. Mycroft quickly took his brother’s hand and started to rub his thumb over Sherlock’s it.


	7. Love and Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers talk while getting better. And John faces Mycroft's anger.

When Sherlock returned from surgery, he was placed in Mycroft’s room, according to Anthea's orders. Greg had raised his eyebrows in question, but the PA smiled and said. “They belong together, and I intend to see that they get over their stubbornness and realize they need each other. I’m just helping them along.”

Sherlock started to become aware of his surroundings, and his brain was trying to make sense of the sensory input he was receiving. The smell of antiseptic assaulted his nose. He tried to recognize the sounds he was hearing. Not able to identify individually what they were, he understood they were the machines keeping him alive. Voices were also in the background, but he couldn’t make sense of what they were saying. Snatches of dreams were plaguing him from his time in Serbia, Mary’s death, and John’s beating. Unable to wake from the terrifying repetitive dreams, his only outward sign of distress was the frequent jerking of his fingers. Anthea’s voice was the first clear sound he heard.

“Dr. Watson is safely in our holding cell, sir. Do you have any orders at this time?” Anthea finally had told Mycroft what had happened with John.

“I want him to understand what he has done to my brother several times. Make sure he’s well enough so that when I can talk with him that he is alert,” Mycroft ordered.

Anthea smiled. “It will be done. I’ll enjoy seeing to it myself.”

Sherlock moaned and heard Greg’s voice before feeling a hand in his. He opened his eyes to see shadows close to him. As his vision became clear, he called, “Mycie?”

“Hello, little brother,” Hearing Mycroft, Sherlock tried to rise to see him better but fell back, crying out in pain. “Don’t try getting up yet, Lock. I’m not going anyplace. Do you want me to call for some pain medication?”

“You’re alive. I thought they had killed you. You can’t leave me.” Sherlock held his brother’s hand as tightly as he could.

“I won’t. Right now, let’s get your pain under control,” Mycroft said.

Sighing, the young man said, “You know it’s not safe for me to take anything.”

“They have lighter medications that you can take.”

A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson arrived and appeared in his sight, “Come on, dear, do as your brother ask, and take something for the pain. If you’re good, you can have the biscuits I brought when your better and can have solid foods.”

Smiling at her, he whispered. “Can I share them with my brother?”

Patting him on the shoulder, “He’s not so bad, I guess. Just one or two for him. The rest are for you.”

“What about me?” Greg asked, pretending to be left out.

“He can have one also, but don’t worry. I’ll bring you more. Now rest, I’ll see you tomorrow, both of you.”

“I’ll also be leaving. You two don’t give the nurses too much trouble.” Greg said with a wink, “Come on, Mrs. H. I’ll take you home.” 

After the two left, Mycroft saw the pain in his brother’s tired eyes. “Don’t suffer, little brother. Let the nurses give you something.”

Finally, giving in, Sherlock took the pain medication and laid back. “I missed you, Mycroft. I’m sorry that I ran out on you. Forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive. I said things that hurt you, and I apologize. Remember, I will always try to be here for you. Now rest,” Mycroft said as he himself felt his tiredness pulling him under.

\-------------------------------------------------

John laid on his bed, rubbing his sore stomach. The guards had been hard on him, and the bruises were dark and painful. He knew their orders had come from Mycroft and Anthea was there to watch. Now alone, he was imagining what he was going to do to people when he was released.

Mrs. Hudson, who chose Sherlock over him, would have an accident on the stairs when no one was around but he would make sure she knew who she should have chosen. Molly, she had tried to get Sherlock’s eye from the first time he had met her. She even hid the fact that Sherlock was alive for those two years. He grinned as he thought about the fall out when her bosses found out she knew that the man she claimed was Sherlock was a fake.

Greg, his so-called friend. He had enough on him to get him fired if not incarcerated. The men that he had jailed would love the chance to repay him for putting them away. Then that bitch, he would show that woman her place and feel his ire. His and Sherlock’s relationship had nothing to do with her. Maybe he’d show her what a man he was. After all, he was called three Continent Watson for nothing.

Mycroft, there were ways to make his death look like an accident. He had been to his house often enough with Sherlock to know how to get in undetected. Medication mistakes happen all the time, and he knew how to make that occur. One little wrong pill for his migraines and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against John. He would take his time with the Ice Man. By the time he finished, he wouldn’t be in any shape to protect his brother.

Finally, Sherlock. Nothing too fast for him. He’d show that man what was right and wrong. The detective would learn who the boss was and would behave as he was told to. He will be his, mind and body. Oh, what he would do to that body. They all would be sorry. Although in pain, John fell asleep smiling. 

\--------------------------------------------

During the time of their hospitalization, the brothers spent talking over their differences, and as they came to an understanding of how the other felt and what each wanted, they became more comfortable, truly accepting the faults of the other.

As they couldn’t do more than kiss and cuddle, they took advantage of being in a secure facility to do a lot of both. It wasn’t until the day before they were to be released that John was brought up.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock shyly began.

“Yes, love.”

“What’s going to happen to John?”

Mycroft looked at his brother’s fading bruises, “I did warn him if he hurt you again that I wouldn’t tolerate it.”

“He didn’t hurt me this time. It’s not his fault but my own that the truck hit me.”

“And it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t tried to pull you out of the room and said those unforgivable things to you.”

“But.”

“No buts Sherlock. I learned that he’s been hitting you and who knows what else. Even worse, you never revealed to me what was happening.” Mycroft accused.

“He was just trying to get me to understand what I was doing wrong,” Sherlock meekly said.

“Wrong! Sherlock if anyone was wrong there, it was John,” Mycroft was becoming angry.

“John has been helping me become a better man. He lets me know when I do things that are ‘a bit not good.’ Even you know that I don’t think when I get an idea in my head. John has been helping me think before I do or act. He wants to be my friend and be proud of me.”

“No, Sherlock, I never wanted to tell you this, but I think you need to know what kind of man John really is. You know I offered him money to spy on you, and he refused. A few months after my initial offer, John came to me, demanding a small monthly sum for his help in keeping you safe. Otherwise, he said he would leave 221B and refuse to help with future cases. Knowing that you would be deeply hurt, I agreed. John had even drawn up a contract that he demanded I sign so I couldn’t back out of the deal. After that, he came to me every few months demanding higher amounts to keep you in line, or he said he would tell you I ordered him to sign the contract or leave the flat. I couldn’t let him hurt you like that, so I did as he asked. Please forgive me. I couldn’t lose you.”

Sherlock said nothing but turned away.

“Sherlock?

“I can’t talk to you right now, but this doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I need to process what you told me.”

\-------------------------------------

It had been a long week in the cell. John had no one to talk to and nothing to do. He was furious and couldn’t wait to tell Mycroft off. He watched the door open slowly. Mycroft entered on his crutches. His doctor insisted he use them if he left the hospital earlier than advisable. Nodding at the guard to leave them alone, he turned to the irate John. “About time you came to let me out,” the doctor angrily yelled. 

“Not so fast, Dr. Watson,” Mycroft said. “You have caused my brother nothing but pain in the past, and I warned you what would happen if you hurt him again.”

“I didn’t touch him. He reacted to the truth by throwing a tantrum and running into oncoming traffic like the child he is.” John argued.

Mycroft, his voice ice cold, warned. “I’d watch the name-calling, Doctor Watson, if I were you. Maybe this time you didn’t touch him what about the other times that Greg had to stop you from slapping him and trying to force him to come with you more than once physically.”


	8. Living Deeply Our New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Sherlock get together. John gets what he desires.

Yelling, John said, “Pot calling the kettle black here. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t called him a child in anger. Besides, he’ll never allow you to touch me. I’m his only friend. Even he says I am.”

“I doubt he still feels the same way anymore,” The coolness of Mycroft’s voice, made the doctor stop for a moment then became outraged.

“You paid me to watch over him, and I’m sure you never told him that. Don’t threaten me, or I’ll tell him. How much do you think he’ll love you if he knew you paid for me to be his friend? I did what you wanted, so don’t get on your high horse.”

Mycroft raised his voice, “I paid you what you demanded to stay with him, and yes, he knows that you were paid.”

“And I suppose you showed him the contract I created to seal our agreement,” John glared, “So he doesn’t hold you responsible. You agreed to my terms, so don’t play the innocent, you hypocrite. You were happy to give me money to relieve your responsibility toward your brother.”

Mycroft voice turned icy. “I never gave up my responsibility. I paid you because you blackmailed me. You were supposed to be watching over him. Instead, you beat him several times.” 

“With him, it takes more than words to get him to listen,” the cockiness in John’s voice finally did it.

Mycroft stood up straight, and the discussion was clearly over. “You aren’t worth the ground he walks on. I’m done allowing you to hurt him.” The look he gave John let the doctor know he had overstepped. “You have two choices. One is moving out of London and staying out. I will see you have a position, money to get you started, and a place to stay. Or spend the rest of your life in a windowless cell where you will never see the light of day. You will, however, never contact my brother again.”

“How dare you!” John demanded. “Sherlock will never allow this.”

The door open and Sherlock wheeled in.

“Sherlock, tell your brother that you won’t let him do this. I keep you from being a fool,” John ordered.

Looking between his brother and John, Sherlock sighed. “John, you’ve helped me learn about social cues and emotions, I won’t deny that, but I’m not a child, and you’re not my mother.”

“Don’t be an idiot! You need me,” John insisted.

“No, I don’t. What I need is a friend. I suggested the alternative to the cell. John, I can’t allow you to use me as your punching bag again. Accept Mycroft offer and let this end here,” Sherlock shook his head, “I will miss you but can no longer have you in my life.”

For almost five minutes, the three men were silent. “I could tell everyone about you two, you know.” John broke the silence.

“You could, but I doubt you would as you would find yourself without anyone to support your word against ours, and you know it.” Mycroft coolly said. “Make up your mind.”

John saw the determination in the Holms brothers’ eyes. “Fine, I’ll move, but don’t come crying to me when he gets himself killed.”

______________________________

In a quiet house in Scotland, John sat with a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He had worked his shift at the village clinic earlier and was now alone trying to get drunk. Mycroft had kept his word and had set up the position and this little house in the country. In the hours when he wasn't working, thoughts about what had happened, and a glass of whiskey made his thoughts turn dark. The thought of how Sherlock had left him after everything he did for him. Didn’t the detective realize he was the right person for him? Mycroft was the problem, and somehow, he needed to get Sherlock to understand it.

Suddenly Irish laughter caught his attention. The sound came from the corner where a flittering shadow stood. “Oh, Johnny-boy. You poor thing. Sherlock did it to you again.”

“You’re not real. You’re in my head. Go away. You’re dead,” John slurred.

“Am I? Then why are you talking to me?” Moriarty's voice asked.

“You’re in my mind. There’s nothing I can do about Sherlock. Mycroft has made sure of it.”

“Come on, Johnny-boy. Is that all you can do? Sit there drowning your sorrows? You want Sherlock, don’t you?” Moriarty's voice taunted.

“Shut up!” he shouted, throwing the glass at the wall.

“So, you're going to let them get away with forcing you to live in this god-forsaken place without Sherlock?”

“What can I do? If I out them, nobody is going to believe me. No one will answer my calls or emails. Molly, Greg, even Mike, all have blocked me.” John took a slug out of the bottle. “And Sherlock,” he started to cry, hugging the bottle, “Isn’t responding to anything I sent. He even sent back the birthday present that I sent to him.”

“Wow, if that were me Johnny-boy, I would find a way to make Sherlock yours and punish him for leaving you in the first place. Once you have Sherlock, he will always be yours once you get rid of his brother.” 

With blurry eyes, John saw the figure of Moriarty smiling, “Oh, Johnny-boy, do I have some ideas. Now, listen closely.” John fell asleep as his mind brought to the surface what he would do to teach Sherlock his place until he begged for John’s forgiveness.

Laughter echoed thought his mind as his thoughts got darker and darker. A smile appeared on his face in sleep, thinking about how Sherlock would be his once and for all.

\----------------------------------------

Sherlock twisted and turned in his sleep. Moaning and begging for someone to stop. “Sherlock, it’s only a dream wake up, love,” Mycroft shook him gently. The younger man sat up, trying to catch his breath. “Breath with me,” Mycroft started, “In….out……in……out……in…. That’s it. Are you okay now?”

Laying back down, Sherlock curled into his brother’s arm. “Just a bad dream. I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it? You know I’d listen,” Mycroft pulled his brother closer to him.

“Can we talk about it in the morning? For now, will you hold me?” Sherlock asked. 

Mycroft knew his brother had been having the dreams for a while now, and Dr. Watson was the subject of them. He would leave Sherlock for now, but in the morning, he would find a way to help his brother.

As they laid back, Sherlock shook once more. The dream had upset him more than he let his brother know. As he fell back to sleep, his last thought was that John would never hurt him like that. After all, it was only a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the story is done or is it? I've started working on a follow-up. Lots of angst for Sherlock and his friends. Thanks for all who have followed this story and left Kudos and Comments. I've always enjoyed seeing Sherlock and Mycroft together and disliked the way John treated Sherlock.


End file.
